There is a moment that remains unforgettable in one's memory, for better or worse. A moment of peak happiness, or perhaps peak despair. This memory likely leans toward the latter.

In my first year of high school, I ended up joining the student council after being elected class president. That's where I met the Student Council President. He was popular enough to have been elected with overwhelming support, and somehow we grew close. I even went to congratulate him on his graduation day.

Would it have been better if I hadn't gone?

It was snowing quite heavily for late winter, and I remember being in an exceptionally good mood, perhaps having made plans to go somewhere with him. I don't recall the details, but it was just before crossing the street with excited steps.

A loud screech of tires, the crushing grip of a hand on my arm. The blue pupils I saw up close for the first time. And...

...I don't remember much after that. When I woke up, I was told I was covered in blood but physically fine, while the boy who was with me was hovering between life and death. Even as I heard my parents' relieved voices hugging me and saying they were glad I was safe, my stomach felt knotted with anxiety.

But after that, I never saw him again, nor did I hear any news.